Always Is Not A Dream
by Mira Ruskin
Summary: What is real? What isn't? Is it lost, or is 'always' just another dream?


**Always Is Not A Dream**

**_by Mira Ruskin_**

**Notes: Ok, for those of you wondering why I'm popping out stories other that FYIW (For You I Would) continuations, here's the thing: I lost chapter 4. It's floating around somewhere on a different computer, so I'm writing Chapter 5 at the same time now. So, my gift to you will be 2 chapters at once, I'm so sorie! But about this story, I needed something to do, and if you're an Aerith-hater, you may not want to read this. I felt the need to write a story with her in there. Thankies, enjoy.**

Cloud's eyelids fluttered. Slowly, vivid blue irises peered from thick lashes. Cloud found himself staring up into the face of a beautiful woman. She was leaning over him, her palms resting on her thighs. A pink dress graced her long legs, and her shoulders bore a red jacket. Her long, cinnamon brown hair was braided back out of her face. Long bangs framed her cheeks.

A smile parted rosy lips, highlighted by the rose tint in her cheeks. Bright green eyes softened as she noticed he had woken up. She reached up, clearing a spike of blonde from Cloud's vision.

"Aerith," he whispered. She returned with a smile. Slowly, Cloud pushed himself off the wooden floor he had been laying on, "Where, where am I?" He asked, pressing his palm to his head. A throbbing pain was resonating through his skull. _I must have hit my head or something._

"You're in the Sector 7 church," Aerith said. Her voice was light, and almost angelic. Cloud looked up at her. She had straightened her stance, and now crossed her arms under her breasts. She still had that infectious grin on her face.

"What happened?" Cloud asked. His memory was pretty fuzzy. He closed his eyes and rubbed them with his balled fists, like a small child would upon waking. Aerith crouched down to his level, and green met blue.

"You were fighting and got hit pretty hard. But now you're here, so you'll be fine," she said, her voice reassuringly soft, "I think you had a nightmare, you were yelling out while you slept that bump off."

"What bump?" Cloud mumbled. His hand ran through his hair, and he winced as he found an egg-sized bump on the back of his head. He looked up to Aerith.

"I told you, you got hit pretty hard. I've already fixed you up. Now you just need to rest," she said with that warm smile that always made Cloud feel better. Cloud leaned back onto his palms, and stared at the floor.

"So, what did you dream about?" Aerith asked, folding her legs underneath her. Cloud looked up at her; it looked like she was genuinely interested. Cloud sighed, and thought back on his nightmare. He closed his eyes. How could he tell her he had dreamt such a horrible thing?

"It's ok, you know. You can tell me," she said, folding her hands into her lap. Cloud half-opened his eyes. He had always felt comfortable around her. He knew she was right, he could tell her anything.

"I was in the City of Ancients. You were there, down on your knees, praying. And, I couldn't control myself, suddenly I wasn't me. I mean, I was in my body, but it wasn't me that was moving or thinking. I could only watch.

"I walked up to you, and I raised my sword. I was going to, to hurt you, Aerith! I tried so hard to stop myself, and finally I got control of my body back. But when I stumbled back, away from you, Sephiroth showed up. He, he," Cloud found it hard to finish. He looked up at Aerith. She still had that warm smile on her face. With a nod, she signaled for him to continue.

"Sephiroth killed you. And I couldn't stop him, I could only watch," Cloud admitted, "It had felt so real, Aerith. I thought I'd lost you," Cloud said, his voice filled with hurt. He lowered his head. It was a horrible dream, and he wished he could just forget it.

"That's sad, Cloud, but you know I'm right here," Aerith placed a cool palm on Cloud's cheek, "I'm always right here." She pressed three of her fingers to the spot on Cloud's chest right above his heart.

Cloud looked up to her, and suddenly felt very dizzy. His vision blacked over, and no longer could he see anything. His eyes were now closed, and he felt tired, limp. He could still feel those three fingers over his heart.

"Cloud! Cloud, wake up!" said a voice from where Aerith had just been sitting. Cloud opened his eyes, Tifa sat before him, and Vincent was leaned against a wooden church pew. Tifa was looking over at Vincent, and hadn't noticed that Cloud had opened his eyes.

"I can feel a pulse, Vincent, he's just out of it still. Nothing wrong with that though, did you see the bump on his head?" She was saying. Vincent was looking right at Cloud, "Tifa, you realize he's awake, don't you?" Vincent's deep voice offered. Tifa turned quickly and looked right at Cloud. A grin parted her full lips.

"Hey! You had me worried there! I thought you'd never wake up! You got clunked right on the head, and you were so out of it for like, hours! We had to bring you here, to the church, to let you rest, y'know?" She said.

"Where's Aerith?" Cloud asked quickly, taking Tifa's hand off his chest. Her smile faltered, and she threw a worried glance at Vincent.

"What?" Vincent asked, nervously looking at Tifa.

"Where's Aerith?" Cloud asked, louder. They were scaring him, there was something they weren't telling him.

"Cloud," Tifa said softly, "Do you not remember?" Cloud's eyes widened. It couldn't be true. He had dreamt that! And he had just seen her!

"I was here, and I," Cloud mumbled, trying to make sense of his thoughts. He placed a palm on his forehead. Was he going insane?

"Cloud," Vincent spoke, his voice deep and low, "Aerith died. Remember? Sephiroth killed her, in the City of Ancients." Cloud shut his eyes and grit his teeth. He had been talking to her just moments before. He looked up at Vincent, then at Tifa.

_Maybe Aerith is dead_, he thought, _But I know she's not gone. She'll always be there, right by my side. _


End file.
